


Demons and Logic

by Venison (orphan_account)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Demon Deals, Demon Summoning, Demons, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:16:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2499287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Venison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school student Armin Arlert refuses to believe anything that can’t be proven. Except one thing: demons. With nowhere to turn to save his grandfather, the last blood relative he loved, he requested the help of the demons. He threw caution to the wind and summoned one of the worst, most cruel demon from Hell—Levi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demons and Logic

**Author's Note:**

> I read this prompt somewhere and I really wanted to write it. I also need more Armin/ Levi in my life.

“Achoo!”

Armin wiped his nose with the sleeve of his sweater. His grandfather’s attic was as old as him and had the dust to speak for it. It was one of the many things that he would be handing down to his grandson and he was not ready for that just yet.

His grandfather was in the hospital right now, sickness slowly overcoming him and Armin wanted to do whatever he could to stop it from taking away the last blood he had on this earth. He vaguely remembers as a child a story his grandfather told him about a tome that could summon a spirit that would grant you _any_ wish with only a simply request in return: your soul.

It didn’t seem like such a bad deal after all—Armin didn’t believe in things such as souls and would it really make a difference if he didn’t have his? Probably not. So the blond continued to search for this magical tome, skimming through some other books that reminded him of his childhood.

He picked up an atlas that mapped most of the world’s oceans and islands and smiled fondly.

Shaking off the nostalgia, he continued to search until he found a box labelled, “Misc. Books” that would have been his best chance if any. Armin sliced open the packaging tape keeping it sealed and rummaged inside. These books were very much random with stories of samurais fighting demons to young teens fighting giant monsters on a giant wall. But when he finally reached the bottom of the box Armin couldn’t help but shout in accomplishment.

“Yes!” He grinned, the tome was thick with yellowed out pages and the cover was dyed deep red. He opened it up carefully surprised to see dust even in the corner of the pages. “Gross.” He sighed, flicking the light weight pages only to find that it was all in French.

“Damnit.” Armin sighed, reaching for his phone as he made his way out of the attic. He slid down the ladder leading up to it and dialled the number.

Armin waited for a couple of seconds as the phone rang out. He knew one person who knew French and wouldn’t be opposed to helping him.

“Jean? Hey it’s Armin! Would you like to come over for a little bit?”

Hearing the agreement, Armin tucked away his phone. He knew that Jean had a slight crush on him so he might be using the man for his own needs, but he still owed him for lending him the money to repair his apartment (he lived with Eren so it was no surprise that he needed to fix up some things that would be inevitably broken.)

Jean only lived a couple of minutes away so Armin went to work preparing some tea and food for him. He arrived just as he predicted, door rattling with Jean’s knocking. He set up the tea on the dining table and rushed over to the door, opening it.

Armin hugged Jean at the door, “Hey! Thanks for coming over.” He grinned at the older male, just by one year, and led him into the small house. Armin was in charge of taking care of it until his grandfather got better.

“Yeah, no problem,” Jean rubbed the back of his neck in fake irritation, “It’s not like I had anything to do anyway.” He teased, earning a small giggle from the blond. “What? I can’t invite my best buddy Jean over for tea once in a while?” Jean seemed unconvinced but went along anyway.

They sat at the dining table with the radio on the background. Armin’s grandfather didn’t believe in television as a form of entertainment.

“How’s living with Eren?” He asked, sipping from his tea. Jean had settled for coffee.

“You know how living with Eren is.” Jean sighed, shaking his head. He leaned back in the chair, something Armin’s grandfather used to slap him across the head for doing. “He’s worried about you. Everyone is actually.”

Armin shrugged his shoulders, fingers slipping around his mug. “Yeah I know. But I’m fine. It’s not like we don’t have any money,” It wasn’t a lie but his grandfather was living on pension and Armin’s job at the bookstore didn’t pay very well. “And besides, he’s coming back soon. I know it.”

Jean looked empathetic but didn’t let Armin see it, he knew the blond disliked pity amongst all things. He had heard from Eren’s father that Armin’s grandfather had a slim chance of living past this but he didn’t dare bring it up. Armin probably knew it as well.

“Just take care of yourself.” Jean sighed, shaking his head. “Anyway, how’s living on your own? It’s been what, three weeks now? I’m surprised I haven’t heard anything of a house party.” He chuckled.

Armin scoffed at the notion, “You know I’m not that type of person besides I think we all remember how Carla and Grisha responded to Eren’s house party.” Jean laughed—it was only last year, his, Eren, Mikasa and others senior year. They were, in short, not very happy about the state of the house.

They talked about various subjects—such as Armin being in his final year along with Christa, Connie and Sasha (and how much of a pain they were), Jean’s studies in law school, Marco’s huge new golden retriever, even Reiner, Bertolt and Annie’s trip to Europe.

“Hey Jean,” He hummed in acknowledgement, looking through his phone. A photo of Reiner with Annie and Bertolt hanging onto each of his biceps as he lifted them in the air in front of the Eiffel Tower pulled a laugh out of him.

“You can read French, right?” Armin chimed, catching the man’s gaze with his own, Jean wouldn’t be able to escape his request now. “Would you mind doing some translating for me?” He already had the red bound book in his clutches.

Jean glanced up at his phone, arching a brow in curiosity at the strange tome within Armin’s grasp. “So this is why you asked me over.” He chuckled, opening it up once Armin had slid it over towards him.

“Only one of the reasons.” Armin smiled sheepishly—he loved Jean’s company, he did, but it wasn’t often that they hung out one on one like this. They only met when Armin was in his freshmen year and Jean was a junior. And even then he was stuck to the hip with Eren and Mikasa. It was only through Marco did Armin start befriending Jean.

Jean was silent for a few minutes as he read the summary on the front page. “It’s about demonology or something like that.” He finally deducted, “It’s like Satanism but not. You know?” Armin nodded in interest, leaning on his elbows as he stared at the foreign words inked into the pages.

“What are the contents?” Jean glanced down again, his finger tracing the numbers as he read down.

“Demon types… Demon behaviour and mannerisms… How to summon a demon…” Armin stopped him at that, instructing him to move to that page. Jean did so without argument and began to read off the page aloud.

“Look for… the type of demon that you make deals with.” Jean sent Armin a worried look but did as he was told.

“This ritual specifically summons trade demons. This is usually done to strike a deal or, usually in exchange for the summoner’s soul or possession of equal value.”

Armin urged Jean to go on.

“The ritual requires a sealed room and an empty box in the middle of it. The box must contain a photo of the mortal who wishes to summon the demon, graveyard dirt and a bone from a … _voler_ … er, flightless? Yeah, flightless bird. The room must be lit by seven candles in any order. Incense helps in the ritual though appears to no be a necessary component.”

Armin hummed to himself, apparently deep in thought from the reading. It seemed simple enough, really. The graveyard was a half hour bus ride from his house and the photo of him and bones from a chicken would be a piece of cake.

“Right, thank you Jean.” Armin didn’t think he needed more information than that. Jean closed the book and left it in front of him. He couldn’t help but catch a bad vibe from it. Armin was never interested in this sort of thing—spiritual matters seemed to be more Connie and Sasha’s forte.

“What’s this for? You not planning to summon a demon or something, are you?” To be frank, Jean didn’t believe in this sort of thing either. He believed in what he could see or things that were proven with science.

Armin shook his head and feigned a laugh. “You know me—it’s just idle research. I’ve been looking through my grandfather’s stuff and it seemed interesting, you know?”

Jean appeared convinced and let the issue go. Armin was strange with this sort of thing so he didn’t press the issue any further then he needed to. Jean stood up, “All good. I have to go anyway, mum needs me to take her to the dentist or something.”

They hugged at the door again and he bid farewell to Jean. Once he was gone, Armin grabbed his keys, a bucket and his gardening spade and left the house.

* * *

It was sometime in the evening when Armin had come home. He made his way to the graveyard, finding a space where there were no mourners, and dug up a handful of dirt. Then he went to the supermarket to pick up some bones from the butcher, along with some things he would eat that night.

“Goodnight grandpa.” Armin smiled fondly at his grandfather’s voice on the other end of the line. He reminded his grandson to brush his teeth and eat healthy before he disconnected. They spoke every day because Armin could only visit every other day. He didn’t want to miss hearing his voice so it became habit once the man was admitted into hospital.

Skipping dinner until after the ritual, Armin went into the cleared out garage and made sure to close all the doors and windows until it was positively dark. He fumbled around a little bit to find the first candle (figuring out that it would have been smart to light the candles beforehand) and lit them along with the incense. He then set the shoebox in the middle and sat down in front of it.

“Right.” Armin took a deep breath, calming himself down. He waited a couple of seconds before he dropped the graveyard dirt in and then the chicken bone. Looking over the photo of himself, just a photo Eren snapped at his birthday last year, nothing he would miss so he tossed it in.

Armin waited, expectant.

But nothing happened.

Nothing at all.

“Come on.” Armin breathed in frustration, leaning over to find what could have possibly gone wrong. But then again, it could have been the fact that demons didn’t exist.

He deflated with that thought, caught up in the whole idea of a magical spirit coming to this world with some dirt and chicken bones. It was stupid—idiotic, something completely uncharacteristic for him. Someone who believed in facts and logic, not whatever this was.

Armin sighed, shaking his head. How did he manage to fool himself into believing in this in the first place? He picked up the photo and stared at it, he was smiling. He was happy before all of this started. Before Eren and Mikasa graduated and went off to college, before he broke up with Marco and most importantly, before his grandfather became sick again.

Suddenly a prick of pain ran through his finger and Armin was forced to drop the photo back into the box. “Ow!” He winced. Paper cut.

There was little time to react to the pain when an explosion erupted from the shoebox. Black smoke filled his vision and soon caught in his throat causing Armin to hack and cough. He pulled himself backwards, away from the potential fire hazard.

The smoke greyed out and a silhouette appeared in the midst. Armin opened his mouth to scream but only smoke filled his lungs, muffling him.

“Shut up, brat.”

 Armin’s mouth instantly shut. The voice was strong and deep, commanding almost. A man stepped out from the shadows, swirls of mist separating for him to pass through. He was rather short (Armin soon realised he was wearing stiletto boots that raised his height by four inches), and had short black hair that was styled with an undercut. He wore impossibly tight leather trousers and a matching choker. His chest was exposed, showing off his taut abs. His gaze was hard was steel, piercing through the blond.

Armin swallowed, hard.

“You’re the one who summoned me?” The summoned spirit seemed irritated, sauntering towards Armin, heels causing a natural sway to his hips. “Pathetic. But you will do, I suppose.”

He knelt down in front of Armin, using his thumb and fingers to tilt the blond’s chin up. “Not cute at all.” He sneered, releasing him. “What do you want from me?”

Armin watched in awe as the man stood up once more, walking around the room as if inspecting it. He seemed unimpressed to say the least.

“I… I want you to save my grandpa!” Armin shouted, realising his voice was too loud he quickly quieted down, “Please. I’ll do anything.” He rose to his feet, unsure if he could approach him.

“Your grandfather?” The spirit arched a thin brow, crossing his thick arms over his muscled chest. “I suppose I could do that. Though of course I would need something in return.” He drawled, sizing Armin up with only his eyes.

“My soul.” Armin knew the answer before he had to ask the question. The spirit nodded, checking his nails for dirt. “Smart boy.” He clicked his fingers and Armin stared at him expectantly wondering what he had just done.

“Your grandfather will live through this disease.” His heels stepped onto the concrete with loud clicks until he was right in front of the blond. “Now, I’d like my end of the bargain.”

Armin nodded and closed his eyes tightly, expecting for whatever method of extraction that this man was going to use to take his soul.

“Calm down. I can hear your heart beating like a drum.”

Soft lips connected to his and something like electric ran through him.

Armin opened his mouth in shock at the kiss, struggling to pull himself away but he was trapped between the man’s strong arms. His mouth was more or less forced open with his tongue, exploring his hot cavern was practised expertise.

The kiss lasted for roughly a minute, but to Armin it felt like years. When they broke apart, their lips were connected by a trail of saliva. The man pulled away and wiped his lips with his wrists.

“How old are you?”

Armin fluttered his lids open, lips parted I surprise.

“Huh?”

“How old are you, brat?!”

Armin winced at the harshness of his tone.

“17 this year…”

The black haired spirit sighed in annoyance, running his hand through his hair. He turned away from Armin and began to pace the room. The blond couldn’t help but stare—only noticing now that he had two black horns protruding six from his forehead and a tail of similar shade coming from the end of spine and ending in a spade.

He was really a demon.

“Shit. You couldn’t have said that before making the deal?” He half shouted at Armin, causing him to wince in response. He had the type of voice that belonged in the military.

“What does my age have to do with anything?” Armin inquired shyly, earning a sharp glare from the demon.

“It has everything to do with everything.” He grumbled, cracking his knuckles absently. “I can’t claim souls from children.” It took Armin a moment and he soon realised what he meant: he was underage so he could not make the transaction—to put it in simple terms.

“No, please.” Armin spluttered, walking towards the man. “I need this—my grandfather can’t die, please.” He begged the demon, cerulean eyes glazed over with desperation.

The demon glanced over towards Armin with displeasure in his gaze. He clicked his tongue and turned away.

“Fine.” He began to make his way to the closest exit. “My name is Levi so you can stop your wondering.”


End file.
